Hello from the bowels of hell. It’s actually nice that they allow me write hOMe from down here. I wouldn’t have expected that. Hell gets such a bad rap. But it’s actually a pretty quiet place. Except for the jubilantly gurgling fish tank filter. They even have a profoundly soft sheepskin rug for me to sit on. It’s almost like a cheap knock-off of Heaven down here.

Gosh, I thought I was in hell… maybe I should look at a map before I open my big fat mouth and announce shit on the internet.

I woke up grinding myself down in fear and worry of an imaginary and tragic, not-so-distant-future. A future where I too quickly run out of money… have no way to make more… no inner, nor outer reSource to make my Dreams come true. It’s fuckin bleak. Plus, I have an incredible, wildly deserving child that I am accountable for. The skewed puzzle of Existence-As-I-Know-It, is not adding up in my mind.

Something woke me at 3am. At 3:50, I got out of bed… imagining that I’d have extra bonus time to infuse my mind with great books and make love with my cup of tea… but instead I cried too much to even be able to sip from my steaming cup of luscious, caffienated love.

Now I am forgoing my unsayably delectable yoga practice, because I HAVE to write this shit down. It’s just too bizarre. One of those nightmares you wake up from drenched in sweat, heart pounding… sooo glad to be awake…. But the images and feelings are burned so deep in your body-mind that it takes some serious will power to undo from its gouging shackles.

The mind. Wild that it can dance between heaven and hell in a single flirtatious blink of Goddess’s shimmering, infinite eye.

It’s actually kinda cool… to abide in the space where Rubber and Road merge, mingle and masticate. I mean that’s when we REALLY get to bump and grind with the untainted honesty of what we are made of.

Or not.

I’m made of Light and Love and Hella Special Sauce.

But I’m not feeling like it.

What I’m driving at, is that lofty spiritual concepts fly out the window when Life has you in a headlock, your soft cheek pressed against gritty pavement. Before the genius notion to pound my glorious terror out upon willing keys arose, I perched on a sexy, red suede couch, marinating in sacred, terrifying aloneness, crying plump, juicy tears, hurling hateful words at Ed… like how I wish we’d never met, and that I’d kill myself if it wasn’t for Beautiful Serena.

Isn’t that horrible?

I just can’t get my head around how I imagined I was moving in the direction of my Dreams by leaving Ananda. Now that I am here in outrageously expensive, excessively paved Marin County, I feel totally destabilized and incapable of birthing my Visionary and Delectable women’s video circles.

Maybe I should jump tracks and pour myself into my Podcast, “Get Naked With Athena”…

Nobody has signed up for my upcoming webinar. Go figure. I have been drowning in fear and despair. Not exactly alluring, to say the least.

BUT I CAN WRITE. I can pour my deranged, haunted-fun-house-mirror feelings and injured-though-fiercly-determined=racehorse-mind all over the page and THIS is my freedom. THIS is my heaven amidst the self-imposed hell that I am back-stroking through.

And I CAN BREATHE. As deeep as I wanna. That’s raw, pure Grace. Mmmmm…. I looove to breathe.

At the heart of the heart, this is what I LIVE for. To write this boggling existence down. For posterity’s sake.

I’m watching, awestruck as my sense of self unravels. I really don’t know if I know a damn thing. Before Serena came along, I thought I was this high and mighty preacher of the Good Word. I dreamt I was a know-it-all, spiritual badass. But honestly, as another dawn illuminates this jagged, perplexing world, and I type my heart and soul out upon the page as though my Life depends on it….

I feel like desperate emptiness dreaming hollow, haunted dreams.

Breathing.

Wondering….

Wondering what my Life is REALLY for.

Beneath the fever dreams of ego and false salvation.

God will show me the Way.

I pray that I can be good

for Beloved Serena today.

And hey…

Beloved Me, too.

Even though SHE

Is harder to see.

And God, please take away this self-hatred that I didn’t even realize was in me…. Until I stumbled, mostly sober, into this illusory wing of hell. Let me be Empty.

And Faith-FULL.

Amen.

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soft cheek pressed against gritty pavement… this moved me to tears. my own version of inner struggle doesn’t play out the same as yours is in this moment, but in my own way, i deeply relate, and that image just broke down a wall in me that resisting something. ahhh, opening… softening… accepting. here i am. love u